Confessions of a Drama Mama

It’s been another week of school visiting. A few at least. I was exposed to different kinds and levels of discipline in schools. Some schools had rowdy children, some had children that bonded well with their teachers, some schools had students who were quiet as mice during class, but let their true self show during breaks.

Some kids had fun during choir practice. Some were expressionless. Some followed instructions like robots (I really shuddered when I saw that). At one school, the choir mistress made her students line up and tell her the reasons why they couldn’t make it for the next practice. And she recorded each of the reasons. The usual suspects: tuition, swimming, piano, sports.

So anyway, she recorded the reasons and forced them to one way or other make it to her practice. For example: "You’ve got swimming from what time? 11-1? Choir starts at 1, but you can come in late, at 1.15". I’m grateful for my Saturday, I’m sure the kids would like a weekend off as well?

I tried to remember how my own primary school choir practice was. I remember we went carolling but where did we practice? The music room (aka the one of 2 rooms that was air-conditioned - the other was the AVA theatre, where we had the sex talk - cartoon characters that taught us how to pronounce penis as "peanuts without the s", and it ended with a lady from Kotex giving us free pads) is probably the most likely place. But I don’t remember the practices at all. I think we did drive Mrs Ortega up the wall though.

And how come we didn’t have to sing for SYF and have performances and all that? How come kids these days are so busy? One school I met yesterday asked to be paid more than what I get a month! And they were only supposed to perform 4 half-hour sessions! I don’t remember even getting any money from our carolling days. We were probably appreciative of any little ang pow we could have gotten from the families we visited. Times sure have changed. Even choirs have turned into business associations.

Is this meant to give kids a head start in life, to introduce them to the big bad world? Or should we just let them enjoy their recess time chicken wings and play yeh yeh, and just be children? I’d go for the latter. They have all the time in the world to be adults, but they can only be young once.

Disclaimer: Adora may change her mind once she has brats of her own.

Max and I were in Chinatown on Sunday. He had an hour long sitar class (indian music in Chinatown, how much more classic can you get?) so I had an hour to myself to walk around. I discovered the new People’s Park Complex. I think that’s what it’s called. The 2 levels above the hawker centre, kinda near Chinatown Point, near OG. It’s quite a hidden shopping arena actually. Shoes, bags, clothes, and even one of those shops that sell shampoos and household stuff at nice discounted prices

So anyway. It was there that I got called a lychee. I’ve been calling many things in my life. Meaty, "wu ya" (remember the time when there were many China women in Singapore? I got called that in China with Max), chicken legs, but never a lychee. Not a very common thing to call a woman. But here’s the story:

I saw a nice retro dress at this Chinatown place so I asked to try it. I asked for size S since it looked to me like I could fit into it.

"You ah, take M better la."

"Oh, the cutting’s a bit small is it? OK lor. I try M."
Against my better judgement.

I try M and it makes me look like I’m no, not like a lychee… that’s the punchline. Not yet. It makes me look like I’m 4 months pregnant. And not one of those ladies that glow with pregnancy either, no, a dowdy one. So I ask for S again and this time she lets me try it. Which fits perfectly.

When I’m paying, the shopkeeper thinks ok maybe she should say something nice:
"Oh my daughter is about your size but you’re meatier than her so I thought M would fit you better"

I give a tight smile and give her my NETS card. She thinks ok maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. So she tries to salvage the situation with:
(Here it comes)
"You’re like a lychee you know"

"Huh? I don’t understand"

"You know, like one of those fat lychees. You look fat on the outside but you don’t have much meat on you"

I gave dry laughter.

A woman should know never to call a woman fat. A female shopkeeper should know that even more.

If I hadn’t keyed in my pin number I would have just taken off. 2 minutes later I walk down the aisle and see the same dress on display. But I walked on and didn’t go look at it to ask for price or size. In case it was cheaper or in a nicer colour in size S. There’s only so much depression a lychee can take in a day.